


The Thrill of Hypothermia

by acari



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, First Kiss, Fluff, Future Fic, Huddling For Warmth, Hypothermia, Kissing, M/M, Sleepy Cuddles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-25
Updated: 2013-12-25
Packaged: 2018-01-02 13:59:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1057614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acari/pseuds/acari
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles yawned and shifted back against Derek's chest. He arranged Derek's arm across his chest for maximum coverage and shoved his icy feet between Derek's shins. Stiles could certainly emphasize with Luke Skywalker wanting to cuddle up to the steamy intestines of his snow beast. Derek sure was lucky Stiles had no lightsaber available at present.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Thrill of Hypothermia

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thepsychicclam](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thepsychicclam/gifts).



> I decided to go with some old-school huddling-for-warmth fic. Some tropes are classics for a reason. I hope you like it. Thanks to anatsuno for the beta.

"This is such a bad idea," Stiles muttered, before he squeezed his eyes shut and plunged himself into nothingness.

\----

The water hit him like knives carving into flesh as his body tried to shrink away from the all-encompassing cold that enveloped him. He gasped, an involuntary instinct for breath, and icy lake water rushed into his mouth and nose. He flailed in a panic, arms pinwheeling as he tried to reach the surface; but he couldn't see which way was up and his clothes were dragging him under and he couldn't breathe. His skin hurt and his lungs hurt; he was going to die.

Suddenly, Stiles was grabbed from behind. Oh, god, the thing had jumped in after him, and now it had him by the scruff of his neck and would drag him under. Stiles started struggling in earnest, kicking his feet at the attacker and trying to land punches. He didn't want to die. He couldn't die like this. 

He broke the surface with a gasp, arms and legs still kicking out wildly. "Stop fighting!" Derek snapped. He had Stiles by the neck, dragging him close by his hoodie. "Stiles! Stiles, stop. It's me." 

Derek's voice finally penetrated the panic fogging Stiles' mind. All of his strength seemed to leave him at once and his body went limp and pliant, only Derek's arm around his chest keeping him from floating away like a piece of drift wood. 

Derek dragged Stiles out of the water and dumped him unceremoniously on the ground, before rolling onto his back to heave in huge lungfuls of breath. 

Stiles crouched on all fours and coughed up what felt like half a lake, before flopping onto his back next to Derek. "That was no fun," Stiles gasped. "Remind me to never do that again."

Derek wordlessly got up and hauled Stiles to his feet. He patted down Stiles' chest and arms and peered into Stiles' eyes. "I'm fine. I'm fine," Stiles reassured him, swatting at Derek's hands. His clothes were clinging uncomfortably and he was freezing, but otherwise he was fine, still in one piece, good to go.

Stiles wrung out his hoodie as best as he could and fumbled his phone out of his back pocket. It was dripping and the screen stayed stubbornly black no matter how hard he pushed the buttons. Great. So much for calling the rescue squad. 

Derek considered the phone then looked around nose first, probably sniffing out the way, the weirdo. "Come on, this way," he confirmed Stiles' thought seconds later, and made for the trees.

\----

"So, are we not talking about it?" Stiles asked, while stomping after Derek through the undergrowth, brushing twigs out of his way and trying not to fall over his own feet. It was getting dark and they were still surrounded by nothing but trees. Stiles' teeth were chattering and he was getting tired, his movements getting slower and clumsier by the minute. " Derek, wait!" he called. "Why were we just chased through the woods by a crazed stag-thing?"

Derek paused, looking at Stiles over his shoulder. "I don't know." 

"Great." Stiles sighed. His jeans and socks and shirt were cold and soggy, his everything was cold and soggy. This wasn't how he'd anticipated the weekend to go. He'd had plans, dammit.

"We need to get you out of the wind," Derek said, from a lot closer than he'd been just moments before. Stiles must have zoned out for a second there. 

Derek looked concerned. Wind, right. Stiles had seen a documentary once, it was the wind chill that killed you. A shiver wrecked him and he wrapped his arms around himself. They wouldn't be able to make it back to the cabin before nightfall.

\----

They found a crevice to squeeze into, just a small opening among craggy rocks. It was dark and overgrown and there was barely enough room to lay down, but it was the best they could do. Stiles sat hunched over on the trunk of a fallen tree while Derek busied himself with collecting leaves and twigs and things, like a nesting bird. Stiles was alarmed to find he did not feel like making jokes. He just wanted to curl up in a ball and sleep.

"Your lips are blue." Stiles jerked, blinking up at Derek's face looming close. Dammit, he'd zoned out again. "Come on, you need to get warm."

Derek helped Stiles to his feet and started to rid him of his damp hoodie and jeans. "What are you doing?" Stiles protested feebly, but didn't make any attempt to stop him; he just stood there like a puppet, body wrecked with intermittent shivers, and let Derek maneuver his arms and legs until only his underwear remained. Stiles watched as Derek draped the sodden clothes over branches that hung into the crevice. 

Derek had made a makeshift bed of leaves and twigs, with his leather jacket draped over them. It didn't look very comfy but Stiles didn't care. He just wanted to sleep. "Lay down," Derek prodded him, and Stiles curled up on Derek's favorite jacket like a pill bug, legs tucked up to his chest and face burrowed in his arms. 

There was rustling in the dark and then Derek shoved at Stiles' shoulder. "Turn over." 

Stiles grumbled but rolled on his side, facing the rock wall, and Derek lay down behind him, his naked chest against Stiles' back. "This okay?" Derek asked. 

There was a twig poking Stiles in the hip and everything smelled damp and musty, but Derek was warm behind him and his stubble was pleasantly scratchy against his neck. Stiles hummed and rearranged his limbs to get more comfortable, poking Derek in the stomach with his elbow in the process. "Sorry." 

Derek huffed. "Go to sleep, Stiles." Derek had a lot of huffs: a huff for every occasion. Sometimes he timed them with an eye roll for emphasis. His frustrated huffs made him sound like a horse with steam coming out his nostrils; Stiles secretly thought they were hilarious. This huff, though, this was one of the good ones, the fond ones. Stiles was not-so-secretly highly invested in Derek huffing at him with fondness. It made him feel all tingly inside, as if he'd swallowed a teeny tiny fairy creature. (In Stiles' defense, it had been an accident and he'd apologized profusely.)

"What if the stag-thing finds us?" Stiles asked.

"Don't worry about it, I'll notice."

"Right." Stiles yawned and shifted back against Derek's chest. He arranged Derek's arm across his chest for maximum coverage and shoved his icy feet between Derek's shins. Stiles could certainly emphasize with Luke Skywalker wanting to cuddle up to the steamy intestines of his snow beast. Derek sure was lucky Stiles had no lightsaber available at present. Derek obligingly spread out his hand and pressed closer, tucking his knees behind Stiles' and curling his body more fully around him. 

Stiles hummed in satisfaction. This was better. Derek was just as comfy to sleep with as Stiles had long suspected. "This isn't how I'd seen this going, you know," Stiles murmured. "Don't get me wrong, the snuggling is nice. I just didn't expect the thrill of hypothermia."

There was a long moment of silence. "What did you expect?" Derek asked finally, warm breath whispering along Stiles' nape.

"Well, I was planning on taking you fishing and then I was going to seduce you."

"Sed--?" Derek trailed off mid-word.

Stiles kicked him in the shin with a heel. "Oh, don't even. I got sick of waiting for you, you jerk."

"Wait--" Derek seemed incapable of finishing his sentences.

Oh, for fuck's sake. Was Derek serious right now? "Yes, wait!" Stiles exploded, turning to face Derek in a clumsy flail of motion. "I turned eighteen, and you did nothing. I went away to college, and you did nothing!" 

Derek opened his mouth, but no sound came out.

"You weren't gonna do anything, were you?" Stiles pointed an accusatory finger at him. "And if you deny it, I will punch you in the head. Your stupid werewolf head will break my hand but I will punch you, I swear to god."

Derek was silent for a long time. "You were happy," he said finally. His voice was very quiet, as if he was talking to himself, and Stiles felt a little like crying.

"You are such an asshole," Stiles breathed.

Derek's face did something funny then, that punched-in-the-gut expression he got sometimes where his eyes looked huge and seemed to bleed emotions everywhere, and Stiles just had to kiss him. He cradled Derek's face in his palms and kissed him like he'd wanted to ever since that afternoon almost two years ago when he'd looked up from the bestiary and found Derek slumped over an open book, fast asleep, and his heart had clenched in his chest and he'd thought 'oh, shit'.

Derek's lips were soft, a little chapped maybe, and his hand was broad and strong on Stiles' back. When Stiles had thought about kissing Derek--and he had, laying awake in his bed at night, one arm thrown over his face and one hand wrapped around his dick--he had expected rough, claiming, take-no-prisoners kisses, like Derek had something to prove. He was not prepared for the achingly sweet yielding of Derek's mouth, his lips all plush and soft like a whispered invitation. And Derek made the best noises, this half-choked off moan at the back of his throat. Leave it to Derek to be an ass and keep them from kissing like that for years. What a pointless waste of time.

Stiles pulled back to give Derek a piece of his mind, but ended up yawning in Derek's face instead. Stiles grimaced. "Ugh, sorry."

Derek's lips twitched. "Go to sleep, Stiles."

"No," Stiles protested, hiding another jaw-cracking yawn in Derek's shoulder. "I wanna make out with you." 

Derek's fingers were doing amazing cradling, caressing things to Stiles' nape. "You were holding out on me, you jerk," Stiles grumbled. He nuzzled his face against the side of Derek's neck and closed his eyes in bliss. 

"Tomorrow," Derek assured him. "I'll kiss you tomorrow." 

Stiles nodded, pleased. Derek still owed him a seduction after all. Tomorrow he would seduce Derek properly, all night long. And then again. Stiles snuggled down into Derek's arms, thrilling at the thought that he could do that now. 

The last thing Stiles was conscious of before he fell asleep was a soft kiss pressed against his temple and a whispered, "Goodnight".


End file.
